


i see us in black and white (in all your gorgeous colours)

by clouds1132



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 5 Things, 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Monochromatic Vision, No Smut, Queerplatonic Relationships, colourblindness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:35:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29018310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clouds1132/pseuds/clouds1132
Summary: Smoothing down his shirt, he emerges from the wardrobe, only to see Louis laying on his front on the bed, scrolling through his phone. Louis looks up at the faint rustling sound before his eyes are suddenly glued to Harry, staring quite incredulously.Harry quirks a small lopsided smile and raises his eyebrows. “How do I look?”“H… well, um…” Louis trails off, gulping silently before blurting out, “Like a handsome broccoli.”Five times Louis doesn’t realise that Harry has monochromatic vision (fully colourblind) and the one time he does.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 69





	i see us in black and white (in all your gorgeous colours)

**Author's Note:**

> hey everyone,
> 
> i really like the 5+1 trope so today, i was randomly inspired to write this short story. i hope you like it !
> 
> firstly, i'm not colourblind and i don't know anyone who is colourblind so if there are any inaccuracies, i apologise and don't hesitate to let me know. secondly, this is mostly a self-indulgent fic because i really really really want to be in a queerplatonic relationship, so i wrote h and l in one just to satisfy myself. plus, there's not enough ace/aro representation anywhere !
> 
> warnings: swearing

**1**

Louis is on the run. He’s on the run from his whiny, clingy Sauroposeidon of a partner, Harry, who is currently in the process of forcing him into home culinary classes.

“I don’t want it! I don’t want it! I don’t want it!” Louis exclaims, bounding down the thankfully-carpeted stairs as Harry tramples on his heels in a fluffy orange apron and a pink spatula in hand. “I do not give you consent!”

Louis streaks straight past the kitchen and into the dining room, finding his refuge in the far corner of the room, behind his favourite investment - their family-sized table. He scowls as Harry comes to a halting stop on the other end of the table, clumsily dropping his spatula and ignoring it as it lay forgotten on the floor. Harry places his hands on the edge of the table and leans forward, seemingly still towering over Louis, despite how far apart they are.

“This is for your own good, _Lewis_ ,” Harry argues. “It’s a vital life skill to learn how to cook.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Uber Eats exist.”

“You’re going to go bankrupt!” Harry protests. “You know, food delivery apps make you pay seventy-five percent more than you would’ve-”

“That’s a fucking lie, Harold.”

“-in person and even so, restaurants and fast food places exploit you for your money as well!”

“So what?” Louis challenges. “When I go bankrupt, I’ll just use your bank account!”

“We _share_ a bank account,” Harry exasperates. “Anyway, who’s going to cook when I have to travel for work?”

“McDonald’s-”

“Or when my car breaks down and I’m stuck in the desert for the night?”

“Hmm, maybe KFC?” Louis suggests.

“What about when my liver sets on fire and I have to go to the specialised hospital in Japan?” Harry questions, narrowing his eyes.

“Harry, what the actual fuck?”

“My point is,” Harry begins, clearing his throat and staring straight into Louis’ eyes as if it’s a tool for convincing Louis, “You _have_ to learn how to cook because you never know. One day, I might shrink to the size of a rat and I won’t be able to reach the stove anymore.” 

“I doubt that will happen,” Louis interjects before his shoulders slump and he mumbles, “Okay.”

“What?” Harry’s eyes widen.

“I said okay,” Louis grumbles, walking towards the kitchen. “Now let’s get on with it before I fall asleep from boredom.”

“You’re a menace,” Harry says, sighing in relief and following the red-eyed man into the kitchen… wait. Does Louis even have red eyes? Harry doesn’t know and he doesn’t really care. He follows the eyed man into the kitchen (but if he’s being real here, he’d be a little worried if Louis didn’t have eyes). “Can you please get the carrots, the cucumber and the red capsicum from the fridge… please?”

Louis scoffs but obliges anyway. “What am I? Your maid?”

“Something like that,” Harry replies, getting out the wooden chopping board and placing it on the bench.

“This is boring. I thought we were gonna do the cool stuff like frying and stuff,” Louis says, dumping the vegetables onto the bench.

“Patience, child,” Harry chastises, holding up a disciplining finger in Louis’ face and causing him to go cross-eyed.

Louis jumps out of his trance and glowers. “Who are you calling a child? I’m older than you.”

“Huh, really,” Harry answers distractedly, his eyes scanning over the vegetables in hopes that Louis didn’t get the radish instead of the carrots or something else similar that he totally _would_ do. “I thought I told you to get the red capsicum?

“I did, Harold,” Louis says flatly.

Harry glances at the capsicum again, wondering whether if he squints hard enough, he might be able to see _some_ splash of colour. But to no avail, the capsicum is still just grey.

Louis doesn’t seem to notice Harry’s slip up as he demands, “Hurry up so there’s enough time for you to bandage my fingers when I cut them off.”

**2**

A few weeks later, Louis comes home to the smell of paint wafting through the air. He’s just about to walk straight to his bedroom when he passes the spare storage room and does a double-take. Curious, he stands under the doorframe and observes as Harry delicately paints an, erm, _abstract_ combination of colours onto the canvas.

His eyes travel to the floor, where Harry’s sitting on a mat with a few bottles of paint next to him. There’s a dark blue bottle, an orange bottle, a hot pink bottle and two dark green bottles, and Louis, for the life of him, can’t imagine what on earth Harry is trying to paint. A retro version of their future cat, perhaps.

“My psychic senses are sensing an abnormal presence at the door,” Harry says as his paints a pink upwards stroke with a flick of his wrist.

“Shut your face. I’m normal,” Louis snaps, creeping up behind Harry to take a closer look at his creation. “What are you painting?”

Harry shrugs as he takes one of the bigger paintbrushes and dips it into the dark green. “I dunno yet. Maybe a Gharial.”

“I didn’t know you were into abstract art,” Louis comments, pinching one of Harry’s curls between his index finger and thumb before tugging on it lightly.

“Zayn was replenishing his art supplies and said I could have some of his old things so I took the stuff I wanted and left,” Harry explains, a squiggly line appearing on the canvas from beneath his paintbrush.

“So you went for dark blue, dark green, orange and pink?” Louis questions.

Harry pauses for a moment and Louis almost swears he falters. “It was a spontaneous moment so I didn’t exactly think about it.”

“Well, I’m excited to see the final product. Show me when you’re done, yeah?” Louis says, crouching down and wrapping his arms around the green-eyed man’s shoulders before squeezing tightly. He presses his face into Harry’s curls and leaves a kiss on the back of his head. “I have to call Lottie about some family she made in the Sims.”

“That family better include us,” Harry says and Louis chuckles.

After Louis exits the room, Harry looks down at his bottles of paint, wondering if he should make some sort of chart to help him differentiate between colours based on the shade of grey he sees.

 _50 Shades of Grey_ , he’ll call it.

**3**

“We’re going out tonight,” Louis says as he flings the door open and enters the house like he owns the place (which he does but that’s beside the point). “Liam’s friend is having a party and he only thought to tell me an hour before.”

“What’s the occasion?” Harry asks from where he’s sitting at the table and scrolling through Instagram.

“Birthday, maybe. I’m not sure,” Louis shrugs, dropping his bag on one of the chairs and flicking the back of Harry’s head. “Now get your arse up and change.”

Louis disappears into the bedroom and begrudgingly, Harry stands up and drags his feet to follow him. The thing is, Harry _hates_ dressing up. He absolutely loathes it. There’s no fun in picking out an outfit without being able to see if the colours are aesthetically pleasing or if they match. So that’s why most of his wardrobe is comprised of black, grey and white (apart from the occasional coloured gift he receives), in order to cause him less trouble.

“Harold, are you going to wear something black again?” Louis calls from inside the bathroom. “I want to match you somewhat.”

Harry tilts his head to the side as his eyes scan the array of clothes in front of him before glancing towards the section where all his coloured clothes are. Gemma, his sister, had come over on the weekend for their half-yearly clothes-sorting festivity. “Maybe I might try something different tonight.”

“Okay!”

Harry tentatively reaches out to touch one of the garments from his coloured section, feeling the material before carefully pulling it off the rack. He holds it to his chest and shrugs. It should fit. Then, he searches for some pants in his _coloured pants_ drawer before making sure that the shades of grey of each garment don’t match. Once satisfied, he quickly strips off his clothes and replaces them with the new ones, leaving the top few of his shirt buttons undone.

Smoothing down his shirt, he emerges from the wardrobe, only to see Louis laying on his front on the bed, scrolling through his phone. Louis looks up at the faint rustling sound before his eyes are suddenly glued to Harry, staring quite incredulously.

Harry quirks a small lopsided smile and raises his eyebrows. “How do I look?”

“H… well, um…” Louis trails off, gulping silently before blurting out, “Like a handsome broccoli.”

His eyes widen and he immediately clasps his hands over his mouth, shaking his head frantically.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean that!” he exclaims, hastily standing up and moving towards Harry. “It’s just… you’re all green!”

Harry furrows his eyebrows and looks down at his outfit before meeting Louis’ eyes again. “Well, shit. I thought I grabbed the black one.”

It’s lies like this that Harry has had ingrained in his head from day one. He doesn’t even know why he keeps it up anymore

“Don’t worry about it,” Louis says sweetly, patting his cheek tenderly as his eyes catch onto something in the wardrobe. “Ooh, those are some _fine_ pants. You should wear these.”

Louis skips into the wardrobe and picks up a pair of very dark pants, holding it up in front of Harry like he’s showing it off. Harry cracks a small smile and shrugs. “Whatever makes the missus happy.”

Harry changes into the new pair of pants, feeling Louis’ eyes on him as he does so. The thing is, Harry can’t tell if Louis has given him a pair of pants that actually goes well with his green shirt or a pair of crazy pants to fuck with him, like a red pair to make him look like Christmas. Oh, well. He guesses he’ll just have to trust him.

“Better?” he asks, once he’s fitted the pants around his waist.

His heart squeezes as Louis’ eyes light up and face erupts into a wide smile. “You look like a sexy beast.”

**4**

Louis decides that Saturday is the day for him to be spontaneous - _Spontaneous Saturday_ , might he say. It’s not even because he doesn’t like his contact lenses. He really does. It’s just… maybe getting _coloured_ contacts will spice up his life just a little bit. Plus, he feels like spending a bit of extra money anyway.

His eyes scan over the variety of colours that his usual eye store offers before coming to the conclusion that if he _really_ wants to be spontaneous, he should get a crazy, out-of-the-box colour. Maybe he could have a laugh by scaring Harry.

“I’d like these purple ones, please,” Louis says to the lady behind the counter. “My prescription is negative two in both eyes.”

The lady nods and opens on of her drawers, flicking through the boxes before pulling one out and reading the label. She places it in front of Louis. “This is our last box. Have you used contacts before?”

Louis nods. “Yes.”

“So you know the drill with cleaning and such,” she replies.

Louis pays before leaving the store with a bounce in his step, excited to see Harry’s face when he pops out his new purple eyes. Harry’s not home yet when he arrives so he goes straight into the bathroom and takes out his current contacts, replacing them with the new ones. Then, he looks at his reflection. Harry will not be able to miss them.

The door opens quietly when Harry arrives, but loud enough to alert Louis. Louis nearly squeals and drops his soap in excitement as he washes his hands. He quickly dries off his hands and makes his way to the door where Harry is hanging up his coat like he does every day.

“Hey, H,” Louis greets him with a small smile. “Good day at work?”

Harry turns around with a full-blown grin on his face, like a Cheshire Cat. “Great, actually. Tons of new clients.”

“Lovely!” Louis responds excitedly, tilting his head to the side and opening his eyes a little. “It’s totally ‘cause you _finally_ put that picture of the cat in the corner of your business card like I told you to.”

Harry laughs and ruffles Louis’ hair. “Yep, take all the credit, Lou.”

He tilts Louis’ head up and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth before sauntering into the dining room and inhaling the scent of his new, lavender candle. Louis frowns incredulously, wondering if maybe Harry had neglected to look at his eyes or if he was just taking the piss out of him and not humouring him like he _always_ does.

So for the rest of the day, Louis keeps his eyes widened until the moon is rising and his eyes are stinging. Before bed, he grumbles as he removes his contacts. Maybe Harry will finally notice them if he keeps wearing them.

Spoiler alert, he never does.

**5**

When Louis finds out that Harry has never watched _Teletubbies_ before, he is overcome with disbelief.

“What do you _mean_ , you’ve never watched _Teletubbies_ before?!” he demands in shock. “What sort of Brit are you?!”

Harry shrugs, taking a sip of his tea. “I grew up watching other stuff. That’s probably why I’m more mature than you-”

“Stop right there,” Louis interrupts, holding up a finger. “You don’t get to make jabs at me as a defence mechanism just because you’re uncultured.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“Educate you, of course,” Louis replies, picking up the remote and turning the TV on. He knows for a fact that _Teletubbies_ comes on at 4 pm, which makes it an _especially_ convenient afternoon activity.

Louis laughs at Harry’s mortified face as the Sun Baby appears and rises up into the sky.

“I am scarred,” he comments with his hands over his eyes..

The curly-haired man looks severely uninterested as the characters run and jump around on the grass, and sing random songs. Louis doesn’t blame him, though, because one only has so much of an intake of _Teletubbies_ before getting bored. He also doesn’t make Harry sit through the whole episode, in case he never spends his afternoons with Louis ever again.

“See, there’s a reason why I didn’t watch these types of shows when I was younger,” Harry says when Louis presses the off button and the TV screen goes black. He wipes his eyes and groans. “I’ve been traumatised!”

Louis laughs. “I hope you’re looking forward to our daily _Teletubbies_ -watching dates then. I’ll be sure to make a note of that in my diary. Which one’s you’re favourite?”

“My favourite what?”

“Teletubby,” Louis says. “Gosh, Harold. Don’t tell me you were watching with your eyes closed!”

Harry huffs. “It’s impossible to have a favourite. They’re all equally as traumatising.”

“Come _on_ ,” Louis whines before straightening up. “If I tell you mine, you tell me yours. My favourite’s the red one.”

Harry nods, despite not being able to pinpoint which teletubby was red. “The blue one was pretty okay, I guess.”

Louis furrows his eyebrows and, shit, Harry’s messed up. He quickly closes his mouth and waits for Louis to say something about colours that he doesn’t understand.

Louis chuckles shortly. “Do you mean the purple one?”

Harry waves his hand dismissively, careful to look as nonchalant as possible. “Blue, purple, same thing.”

“Huh, maybe we _will_ have to watch it again so you can remember which colours they are,” Louis muses, wiggling his eyebrows with an evil glint in his eyes.

Harry may or may not have fled for his life.

**1**

“Happy Christmas, baby,” Harry murmurs into Louis’ hair as he snakes his arms around his waist. He places a small kiss on Louis’ ear and rests his cheek on his head, sighing happily and tightening his arms.

Louis leans back into Harry’s chest as he secures the ornament on the branch of the fake Christmas tree. So what? Louis isn’t having a real Christmas tree that probably has millions of insects on it inside his house. When he’s satisfied with the placement, he places his hands on Harry’s and plays with the rings on the green-eyed man’s fingers, in particular, his favourite one on Harry’s ring finger.

“Merry Christmas, H,” Louis says softly, a small smile adorning his face. “Do you like it?”

Harry lifts his head from where it’s resting and looks at the star-shaped ornament where it’s hanging at the front and centre of the tree. It has a picture of the two of them from last Christmas in the middle of it, surrounded by more stars. They look so happy. Harry doesn’t know what colour the ornament is but he knows it’s gorgeous anyway because Louis made it.

“Beautiful,” Harry breathes, lacing their fingers together and squeezing. “Did you get cups for the party?”

“Yeah, they’re on the couch,” Louis responds, removing himself from Harry’s warm embrace and regretting it immediately. “What time’s everyone coming?”

Harry glances at the clock on the wall. “Maybe in an hour or so. Niall and Zayn are coming earlier, though, ‘cause Zayn wants to do the icing on the cookies.”

“Perfect!” Louis beams, clasping his hands together. “That means we have time for you to do my nails!”

Louis is fluttering his eyelashes at Harry like he does every time he wants something from Harry and it’s impossible for Harry to say no. It’s just one word - _no_ \- but he messes up every time and ends up saying the opposite. He desperately needs to work on that because one day, Louis will ask for a private jet and a pet camel, and Harry won’t be to say no to him.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Whatever, you whiny child. Which colour?”

Louis shrugs as he pads over to the couch and picks up the pack of cups, opening it. “I want two colours of your choice, but they have to be Christmas colours.”

Harry rubs at his eyes and inhales deeply. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

While Louis sets up the cups, Harry goes upstairs, two steps at a time before arriving at the bedroom. He heads for the dresser where he knows Louis keeps his nail polish and tugs on the handle, revealing an assortment of small bottles containing different shades of grey. He picks up one of the bottles and groans because _of course_ Louis buys the nail polishes that don’t have colour labels.

Harry knows that the two main Christmas colours are green and red, and when his mum had described those colours to him when he was younger, she had described green as ‘bright and charismatic’ and red as ‘dark and alluring’, whatever those mean. He runs his fingers along the lids of the bottles before picking up one that seems ‘bright and charismatic’ enough. Then, he finds a darker bottle that has a significant enough amount of contrast from the first colour.

Knowing that he has definitely not chosen Christmas colours, Harry takes a deep breath and returns downstairs, nail polish bottles in hand. He’s doomed.

“Back, Harold?” Louis inquires, emerging from the kitchen wearing an excited smile and lighting up the whole room. “Let’s see what you picked out then.”

Reluctantly, Harry places the two small bottles on the table and keeps his eyes on Louis’ face to gauge his reaction. As expected, Louis frowns and tilts his head to the side, looking up at Harry in confusion.

“Not that I don’t love how progressive and unconventional you are, Harold, but orange and dark purple?” he questions. “These are… well, these are _Halloween_ colours!”

Harry is ready for death to take him. He bites his bottom lip and swallows audibly. “I-I’m trying out that new trend on, erm, TikTok… you know, the one where people wear colours for different holidays during Christmas…”

Louis stares piercingly at Harry with narrowed eyes and for a split second, Harry has hope that Louis will believe him and let him off the hook. But then Louis shakes his head and Harry’s face falls. “Harry, I hate to break it to you but you are so full of shit. You don’t even _have_ TikTok.”

“I…” Harry trails off before having an idea. “I watch them on Youtube!”

Harry knows that his excuses are lame and he also knows that Louis doesn’t believe him at all, but the only reason he’s lying is because he’s, well, he’s working on perseverance. Yes, that’s what he’s working on - perseverance. He didn’t keep up this act for so many years to give up all of a sudden!

“You. Are. Full. Of. Shit,” Louis accuses, poking at Harry’s chest with every word. He leans back and crosses his arms. “Tell me what you’re hiding.”

“Nothing!” Harry defends himself instantly. Gosh, why is he even trying anymore? “I’m not hiding anything!”

“Yeah, and Niall’s from Scotland,” Louis rolls his eyes. “Come on, ‘fess up. We’ll have a little secret-sharing session today.”

Harry keeps his mouth shut and shakes his head, fully aware that he’s practically admitted to having a secret now.

“Not gonna tell me? That’s fine,” Louis says, shrugging and turning away. “I’m forcing you to watch _Teletubbies_ with me tonight.”

Harry groans. Louis’ been threatening him with _Teletubbies_ ever since he forced Harry to watch it for the first time. Deciding that the kids’ show is definitely not worth his time, Harry huffs and grabs Louis’ shoulder, causing him to spin back around.

“Fine, you’ve caught me!” Harry grumbles, scowling when Louis’ eyes light up. “I… well, I have a problem with my, erm, eyes.” When Louis doesn’t speak, Harry continues in a begrudging mutter. “I’m colourblind.”

Louis’ eyes widen and seemingly almost pop out of their sockets in his skull. Harry lets out a false chuckle. “I have monochromatic vision so I can only see shades of grey… so yeah. My life is literally _50 Shades of Grey_.”

Harry’s eyes dart to the ground and Louis doesn’t speak for a few good seconds before he’s grabbing both sides of Harry’s face, forcing him to look into his eyes.

“Harry Edward Styles, I have known you for ten years… a full _decade_ and only _now_ I’m hearing about this?!” Louis demands sharply but Harry can tell that he’s not actually angry, just shocked.

Harry can’t do anything but shrug helplessly and defend himself. “I don’t know! It never came up in the first few years and then I didn’t know how to tell you!”

Louis furrows his eyebrows, his face flashing with uncertainty as he uses his thumbs to slightly caress Harry’s face. “Did you think I would judge you for it or something? You know I’d never.”

“I know… It’s nothing to do with you, I promise,” Harry sighs glumly. “Just… it was really fucking annoying when I was younger. You know, art class at school and all that. And after that, I liked forgetting about it. Nothing to do with you.”

Considering Harry’s words, Louis takes a deep breath and wraps his arms around Harry’s waist, pulling him into a tight hug. He burrows his head into Harry’s chest and murmurs, “Thanks for telling me. Nothing changes, okay?”

Harry lets out a breath he didn’t even know he had been holding and wraps his arms around Louis’ shoulders, melting into the hug. His eyes flutter shut as he inhales the sweet scent of Louis’ shampoo. “Yeah, thanks.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, gently swaying from side to side and as soon as Louis pulls away, Harry misses his warmth. Harry gazes into Louis’ eyes, wishing for the umpteenth time that he could see their beautiful colour.

“So do you want me to help you with colours and stuff?” Louis asks, taking Harry’s hand and intertwining their fingers before leading him towards the stairs.

“Sure, yeah,” Harry breathes, following Louis up the stairs and towards the nail polish.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading.
> 
> if you liked it, please leave kudos and comment something nice or constructive :))
> 
> i wish you all a lovely day/night x


End file.
